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Monthly Archives: September 2000

Cassie Bernal may not have jutted her perky breasts out and proclaimed proudly “YES” to the question “Do you believe in God?” that Dylan Kebold asked her while pointing a gun in her face April 20, 1999 at Columbine High School. This would greatly reduce sales of the book “She Said Yes: the Unlikely Martyrdom of Cassie Bernall, by Missy Bernal, the mother.

Three unamed students are sticking to their story that the incident happened according to Chris Zimmerman, editor of The Plough Publishing House book, but Emily Wyant, 16, who was crouched under a table less than 2 feet from Bernall, said she never heard Klebold ask Cassie if she believed in God.

As with any tragedy there is money to be made and if you can recoup the losses of dead daughter who will be able to pay off the BMW in death why not? String together enough “evidence” of a high cabal reason for why those two kids went off the deep end and you have a shot on Hard Copy and Maury Povich for anniversary shows well into the next decade. You can use the “Hitler’s Birthday” as a sign they were Nazi’s, even though both Klebold and Harris were Jewish, and that they killed 13 people was a sure sign of satan, you have a far more entertaining read than two loner idiots got tired of snobs and life and the sinking suspicion that Rammstein was gayer than Rob Halford in a tutu.

Did Cassie and Klebold have this deadly exchange of ideology? I wasn’t there and that’s the only way I’m ever convinced of anything being true. If I had been there in the mythical circumstances I tell you what ol’ Buck would do. Some punk points his gun in my face and asks if I believe in God I’m going to say “nah, I’m a nihilist paratheologist into the existential Alexandrian methods of playing “Quake’”. When the little bastard is appeased that I’m one of them, I pull out my boot knife and let him find out about god by himself, then use what I can of his tiny virgin body as a shield for the other kid with a gun who I beat to death with his friend. And then I’m alive and kicking for another day of doing the lords work, not having my mommy write a snivelling fool book about how I wanted a leather jacket and that was my path to heroin and Baphomet before I found God and stared down the barrel of a gun til my eyes were in the back of a library without my head.